


Seven

by Zip001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Jonsa week, JonxSansa Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8390338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/pseuds/Zip001
Summary: This is a collection of my small tales that hopefully ties the Jonsa week themes (see below) to the relationship of Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. I laugh but I totally misread the guidelines (I am a bit dyslexic and a lot silly) so instead of picking one of the two themes for the day, I wrote both. Then when I found out, I decided to write both as a challenge.Caution: There be fluffy!!!!Themes:Day 1: CASTLE or CHILDRENDay 2: DIREWOLF or DRAGONDay 3: SKY or SEADay 4: BREAKFAST or BEDDINGDay 5: SNOW or STORMSDay 6: LETTERS or SONGSDay 7: AUTHOR’S CHOICE AU





	1. Castle and Children

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riahchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riahchan/gifts), [qinaliel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qinaliel/gifts).



“Cat, look at me and pay attention. Do you know the rules?” he asked and turned her tiny head to face him. Jon kneeled down so his face was next to hers. His tartan kilt brushed the floor as he knelt next to her.

His little girl was so excited for All Hallows Eve. This was the first year she chose her own costume that she made herself, with a lot of help from her mum. She was to be Scottish Princess Merida, in a myrtle green velvet gown lovingly embroidered with their family direwolves, complete with a hip quiver full of foam tipped arrows and a golden bow. He had to grin as she looked exactly like the animated heroine with her sweet expressive face now pouting at him and especially her wild mane of bright red curls that seem to have a life of their own. She wanted to look at herself in the mirror!

But this was important - they were to be guests to Uncle Robb’s and Aunt Jeyne’s famous haunted castle. Unlike the small flat he grew up in Wintertown, Sansa’s family manse Winterfell was palatial, seemingly endless maze of rooms, hidden corridors, and winding staircases, many places where a little rambunctious girl could get herself lost. Luckily, only the west wing, which included the great hall, the sitting room, the library, and the guest rooms, was professionally decorated for the occasion, professional lit, and filled with smoke machines and creepy soundtracks. This year Robb, an avid horror movie buff, crowed that they hired professional actors to portray ghosts and ghouls, and he even admitted that their body makeup and the special effects nearly gave him a heart attack when they had a full dress rehearsal the night before.

Pouting, Cat whined, “Da, Ma already told me.”

He looked up at his wife, who was dressed like Queen Elinor, her auburn hair covered by a wig of long silver highlighted brunette hair that was bound by a long gold cord. She wore a matching green silk brocade gown. She was so beautiful, his Queen of Love and Beauty to his King Fergus (he was so happy that she did not insist he wear a bushy red wig). Even after all these years, six years of marriage and four years of dating, just one look of hers, like the smirk she just gave him now, made him want to take her to another room and well fuck her senseless.

“Cat, tell me the rules.”

He would have to be heavy like always although he knew that was not true. Normally Cat had him wrapped on her sticky fingers - like her mum, she loved sticky sweet lemon cakes - while her puppy eyes had no effect on her mum.

“Ok, ok. Number one is to be polite and courteous to Uncle Robb and Aunt Jeyne and all of our relatives, even yucky Great Uncle Petyr. Number two is to be careful, which means no shooting arrows indoors - there are many priceless antiques that have been in mum’s family for ages. Number three is to not let go of your hand,” their daughter recited.

“Cat, tell your Da why you must hold his hand.”

“So Da won’t get scared. I will be brave for both of us.”

Sansa knelt beside him and cheekily whispered, “You can protect me, my big and strong King, while our brave little princess protects you from the spooky spirits.”


	2. Direwolf and Dragon

“Why is the dragon the same size as the direwolf?” asked the man who so infuriated her last night that she had barred her door at night.

If she pretended that she did not hear, maybe he would go away. She willed herself to calm down, think of new snow, how the flakes slowly waft down from the grey sky. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that she was there, back home, and that if she stuck out her pink tongue, she could taste the icy snow flakes.

But unlike the other times, he came closer and now leaned over her, japing inanely about the baby blanket she was embroidering. She could smell him, a heady mix of sweat, horse, leather and strangely of pine. His large hand possessively held her rounded stomach as if marking the babe and her as his. Her body stiffened as her back was pressed against his hard chest.

“Is it because the dragon is far away from the direwolf and the direwolf is closer to us?” he continued to mindlessly prattle. You would think he was the one who was about to deliver with his foolish talk.

He began to kiss the nape of her neck, her most sensitive spot, and she could not stop moaning as his teeth lightly scrapped it and his hand started to gently cup her sensitive full breasts. She dropped the blanket on her lap and pried his hands off her and snarled.

“You know the dragon misses his fierce direwolf… regrets making her upset...”

He positioned himself in front of her. She saw his eyes looking downcast and his pouty lips downturned. He knelt down in front of her.

“Sansa, I am sorry. I am sorry that you are in pain, that our babe or babes are kicking, that your back hurt, your ankles are swollen… I should not have said that you are huge. It is that I am happy that you are big with our child. I love you.”

She knew that it was true. When she shared with him the happy news, he confessed that he never thought he would have a gentle lady wife or a child, thought that childhood dream of his would never ever come true. Since that night, he was walking around with an uncharacteristic large smile on his face and a bounce in his step, each day ridiculously more excited than the day before.

When he leaned in and lightly kissed her lips this time, she gently returned his kiss, which made him deepen their kiss. She finally pushed him back, gasping for air.

“Jon, the direwolf is the same size as the dragon because the direwolf is the Queen and an equal to her King.”

“My Queen, the direwolf should then be much larger because the Queen is so huge. Ow!”


	3. Sky and Sea

Their perceptive daughter noticed everything, even when she was just a toddler. There were certain things her father enjoyed that her mother merely endured while her father felt the same with the music, singing and dancing her mother enjoyed. She knew.

She would watch him watch his Queen dance with all the courtiers who knew better to keep their hands high on her back and their body away from her voluptuous body. Father would smile as he heard Mother sing along with the songs when they danced - they always opened the dance with him leading her to a slow waltz, the only dance he knew.

Similarly, her mother would go on the hunts, riding a docile bay whose smooth gait cushioned her ride. Her lady mother would always look away from their kills, especially once they skinned and broke down the stags. Her friends said that her mother was weak, but Father told her that she was the strongest person he knew. She knew it was true.

Her mother loved sailing, feeling the spray of the sea and seeing the Red Keep get smaller and smaller the further she sailed away. She loved swimming and sometimes she dove so deep that seasick Father would sometimes get even more nervous, worried that she would swim away. Mother always laughingly would say that Father did not have any sea legs, and Father would grumble that she was more fish than man.

But Mother did not enjoy flying at all. She was scared of heights, remembering her younger brother’s fall. And Father flew everywhere - to calm the masses, to put down the unrest, and to fly home to his love. Yet he always came back for Mother and her.

Her playmates were the daughters of Oberyn. They were fierce warriors all and did not understand the strength or bravery of Mother - while Father led their military forces, Mother truly ruled. Her best friend Dorea whispered that she thought gentle Willas or even clever Tyrion were better matches for Mother as they had more in common with her than Father. The Sand sisters even thought their aunt Arianne was perfect for Father even though she herself knew that no one could ever take the place of Mother.

She ruefully admitted to herself that her parents seemed to be polar opposites - her mother always pristine, charming and gentle while Father was oft muddy, sweaty, taciturn, and brooding. Were the rumors true that Father had to marry Mother to save her? Finally she was brave enough to ask Father why he married Mother when they seemed to have naught in common, but for her, their heir. She could not ask Mother.

There was silence as Father seemed to be grappling - words were not easy for him, he was more a man of action.

Finally he pointed out to the sea. She looked.

“There, there. Do you see that line? Where the sky meets the sea? That is your mother and me.”

She saw, and she finally understood. There was no end, nor any beginning.


	4. Bedding and Breakfast

As always, it was Sansa’s idea to run a bed and breakfast. But instead of the renting out the rooms in the main house, they let the many cottages on the property - the garden cottage used by the master gardener in the days of old, the hunting cottage, the carriage house, and the lake guesthouse. They were in high demand.

Each cottage she redecorated in different styles to match the building with the hunting cottage a woodsy and comfortable decked with plaid throws and leather chairs while the light filled garden house was filled with fresh (or dried in the winter) flowers from the garden, lace and toile curtains and overstuffed settees. That he did not mind - they mostly repurposed the existing furniture and draperies from the main house. He also made a few chairs, tables and a small chest - he got a lot of satisfaction using his hands, crafting a piece for each cottage.

But what he did not understand or fathom why Sansa would spend so much money on fine bed linens that she would lovingly hand wash, iron and drape over each bed. It was not merely the cost but the amount of care they require. There were things that could be negotiated or discussed with Sansa - she was open to changes in color scheme as when he thought the decor in garden cottage should have more blue accents and less pink. But there were things she would not compromise, certain things that had to be, like the way each bed was perfectly made, with nary a crease on the sheets. She was beyond stubborn.

It was the same with the breakfasts she had Hot Pie make. Always fresh squeezed juices, including their famous flavored lemon limeades (watermelon in the summer, pomegranate in the fall, etc.). Lacy lemony blueberry ricotta pancakes so crispy on the edges yet so light and delicate. Rashers of crispy bacon they got from a nearby farm. Freshly baked breads accompanied by fresh churned butter and soft cheese. Fluffy omelettes filled with fresh vegetables and different types of cheese. He heard of many repeat patrons returning just for her lemony sweet buns she baked every Sunday and Wednesday.

Maybe Jon was bitching and complaining because he often helped her wash the sheets even though she would tut at him for getting everything wet. And one thing oft led to another, with him getting her wet and then wetter… Perhaps they were not too bad or too much hassle after all.

But when they made the beds, it was all business - she would slap his hands away and give him her patented death glare. One day he had to ask why after another of her exasperated “Jon!”

Her face soften.

“Because I want them to have what we have.”

“What?” Jon did not understand the connection of the sheets to their relationship.

“How you make me feel, feel better about myself, that I deserve good things, nice things like the yummy and cheesy scrambles you made for me. Like these sheets, I always thought they were such luxuries but I thought I should to treat myself. And they were so lovely…”

He smiled, kissing her and remembering how they broke in those first set of linens.

“And you are so lovely…”

======

And they had to change the bed again (wink).

The End


	5. Snow Storm

Blessings - he knew it may be in bad taste but he could not help but be grateful. He was well cognizant of all they lost - so many good men and women, in fact the best of men and the strongest women, as he thought of his father (for he would always be his father) and Robb, and Catelyn. They even lost themselves (she was no longer the innocent and trusting girl, and he has done so many things his younger self would have flinched to even hear about it). And yet, those dark stormy times led him to her.

Yes, she was no longer that girl who believed in knights. She knew the hard way the evil that men could do and yet, and yet, she still loved. She let him love her, let him touch her, let him worship her tiny toes that wiggle so deliciously when he kissed them, her knobby knees he liked to nibble, her delicate fingers that he loved to suck and now, her slightly rounded stomach, their second babe to be.

When the longest nights came a year ago and when he felt there was no hope, she whispered encouragements, telling him of the long days of summer, days so hot they would run around naked if they could, the nights only marginally cooler but even more heated as she would wear the lacy and flimsy small clothes, and of their children running amok. She believed. She had faith. There was hope.

Winter came. They housed many in the extensive underground crypts and caverns where they waited out the White Walkers and wights who passed over them. As Nan told them before, Winterfell survived the last attack of the Night’s King, buttressed by the stone walls she told them were magicked, and it would survive this one.

They simply did not have enough men to fight them. It was that simple. Even if they counted the Bolton men, they would not survive more than a day. They would bunker down, painting all the gate doors with blood, blood of the Boltons mixed with the livestock they had to slaughtered to dry and cure the meat. Almost every piece of the animal was used - even the bones were used to make enrich the stock that they kept simmering and that they added more water every day. The dead bodies of Bolton men fed their fires.

They opened doors to the common folk until they could not; and for those they turned away, they exhorted for them to sail away. The White Walkers could do many things but they could not freeze the seas. _Do not go South._

The hot springs kept them warm and were used to cook their food. The caverns had fresh water sources from the numerous waterfalls which had crystal formations that blindingly refracted and reflected the sun and the moon. All were encouraged to spend at least an hour in those sun “rooms”. They learned to cultivate fast growing fruits and vegetables that require little or indirect sunlight.

Only the bravest men would venture outside to see if the gates held and Howland Reed’s magic held in keeping the greenfire burning around the perimeter of the Keep despite the sheets of ice and snow that blew and blinded them. Jon was the only one who went out almost every day in the storm, barely able to stand upright against the howling wind, barely able to see as the blinding whiteness of the snow and the sky disoriented him, cutting down more furniture to feed the magical fire. He cried as he and the men broke down his father’s throne and his parent’s bed, as everything that the Bolton did not destroy was chopped into pieces until there was seemingly nothing left of their home. Then they threw down the books, including Sansa’s beloved stories and poems. They threw down their waste. He feared that they would have no more to throw and the fire even magicked could not burn without fuel.

Every time Jon came back to her, he held her tightly against his body. He saw things that he could not unsee - saw wights that looked like people he met at the markets in Wintertown, those poor souls who were not able to escape in time or foolishly thought the warnings were lies. These wights would run into the fire and burn, crying and screaming in pain and becoming fuel themselves. They sacrificed themselves to allow the others to come in but the fire and the walls held.

When Jon held her, he felt the numbness wear off, the horror no longer so vivid. She whispered that those books, their parent’s belongings, everything in the keep but for the people were replaceable. They could take never take away their memories, the love, the laughter they shared.

Sansa was their light - she literally glowed as she was so pale with her skin so luminous and eyes so blue. She sang to their people and lifted their spirits, helped organize the men and women into groups that harvested their crops and carried fresh water, and oversaw the cooking of filling foods using grains, beans, mushrooms, and few strips of dried meat as well as overseeing the fair distribution and rationing of the food. Each day Sansa made sure that the children spent at least an hour playing, teaching them games her siblings played, helping them fashion little toys using rocks.

At first his embraces were chaste - his kisses were brotherly, always atop her sweet smelling head, her cool forehead, her brow that wrinkled when he came back sweaty and stinky. But his kisses started to linger and inch lower until he kissed her lips, inhaling her and tasting her sweetness. He knew it was not right - they were raised as siblings, half siblings as her younger self would correct. But if there were no tomorrow what did it truly matter. He pleasured her as he yanked himself - he would not get a bastard on her. Jon did not want to dishonor her - he was not worthy of her love.

The months when there were no sunlight, only endless dark night, he thought it would be soon over. There were so little left to burn - no more furniture, no more doors, the wooden stables and other structures were no more, no more books. There were no meat. They only ate beans, mushrooms and grains. It was so dark that it was too dangerous to go out to tend to the fires. There was a chill in the air that even the hot springs could not take away. They were all so scared. They waited for the end.

And that last day of total darkness, they finally consummated their love. He wanted to say that it was gentle and soft and loving like those stories and songs she loved but it was hard and fast and so desperate. He did not want to lose her. And she did not want to lose him, her finger nails clawing his shoulders and back. Their love was not wrong - how could it be?

And then there was light again.

He went out first. The walls held - the magical fires miraculously still burned. And there were no more screaming and moaning and bodies burning. The white walkers and the wights were gone - he could see them moving slowly southward. He muttered a prayer for the poor souls in the South. Hopefully the stories of the dragons were true.

And they were.

Their firstborn was conceived in the dark during what they thought was their darkest hour. Their second was lovingly conceived in the bright sunlight, in their garden because his wife loved to dance almost stark naked under the bright blue sky.


	6. mostly songs (slight reference to letters)

_Inspired by the photo you know the one_

It was all fun and games, laughs and giggles, at first.

Dancing like an idiot - he could still her hot whisper in his ears that she liked his Bruce Springsteen moves! It made him dance even harder, daring her to laugh as he did some moves that he was positive that the Boss did not know. He was fucking swiveling his hips so hard that he thought he could dig a hole all the way to China. But when he caught her blue eyes, there wasn’t any hint of laughter but a burning desire.

_Hey little girl is your daddy home  
Did he go away and leave you all alone, mmm mmm_

She is just a kid he tried to convince himself, Robb’s little sister. But when he looked at her now as she gracefully shimmied, her body undulating to the music, he knew that was not true. Not a child, not for a long time. Her hair was no longer in her artfully messy long braid, but was tousled in a way that looked like she just got fucked. What did they call that look? Bed head?

_I got a bad desire  
Oh, ho ho, I’m on fire…_

But when he thought of leaning towards her and kissing her until she was breathless, she quickly turned away and did a series of robot moves including a lopsided moon walk as she giggled with Arya who was popping and locking next to her and was looking at him like he was acting weird.

 _A b c_  
_It’s easy as_  
_One, two, three, as simple as_  
_Do re mi, a b c, one, two, three_  
_Baby you and me girl_

Robb’s girl (was her name Jeyne or was it Talisa?) was taking pictures of everyone as a keepsake for Bran and Jojen on their special day. When her lens landed on them and she said “pout off,” he did not know what got into him as he pulled his dirtiest Blue Steel smolder next to the vixen who was pouting like a sad little kitten who needed some serious petting. He could not believe that he was grabbing her ass or that she seemed to enjoy it, purring and leaning into his hand.

So when Sansa huskily sang to the Eddie Money song, “Take Me Home Tonight,” he did.

_Be my little baby  
Be my little baby_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dunno why but i had bran and jojen have eighties music at their wedding reception - shrugs....
> 
> tried really hard to add letters to this prompt fill by putting jackson five abc song - letters, alphabet, get it, get it (face palms as tried too hard - lol)....
> 
> Lyrics in italics from Bruce Springsteen's "I'm on Fire", Jackson Five's "ABC" and Eddie Money's "Take Me Home Tonight."


	7. The Hulk

Jon knew it would be a possibility that he would miss the birthday of all of his girls, sweet Sansa and their six year old twins Anna and Lysa, all sharing the same birthday. And he left their gifts at home (with one with Robb), just in that very case. And yet when he found out his flight home was cancelled due to poor weather conditions, it took everything in his power to not erupt, explode, go Incredible Hulk on the hapless airline workers who he knew were not at fault. He messed up - he should have found a way to reschedule the business trip when it cut too close to their day.

Jon vowed long ago to not be that dad, the absentee deadbeat father, like the one he had or worse, the one that Theon had. He wanted to be like Ned, Sansa's father. Ned went to every one of Robb's games, even the away games. Oft he pretended that Ned was his father - they even looked alike. And when he got into trouble and almost dropped out of high school, uncle Ned was there, bailing him out and not giving up on him. It was the combined effort of Sansa (with her tutoring him and encouraging him) and Ned (with him finding a job to occupy his spare time) that turned his life around - Jon wanted to be someone worthy of Sansa, who only deserved the very best.

So that was why he flew in to the closest state that still allowed incoming flights, rented a car and was driving home in the storm. Five hours on the road. Inching in some places when the road conditions were treacherously icy. Sansa called him, and their happy voices at the party made him both wince and smile. Sansa hired a taco truck and a mariachi band for the Mexican fiesta theme because the girls went to a Spanish language immersion school and loved the animated movie "The Book of Life"! She took pictures and sent them to his phone. Anna was wearing a cute torero bolero and matching pants while Lysa was wearing a red dress with Day of the Dead makeup. His Sansa was dressed like Maria with a ruffled white blouse and long red skirt. He did not miss the birthday song in English and en espanol because Sansa called him.

By the time he got home, it was time to tuck the twins in. He sat in the driveway and saw the silhouettes of his girls. Each of his girls were holding something fluffy, his gift to them. Anna a stuffed dragon. Lysa a stuffed wolf. And Sansa a puppy that Robb brought over, like the one she had when she was a little girl.

As he rushed up the stairs, he heard his Sansa sing sweetly to their girls a Spanish lullaby, Duermete mi niño. When the girls saw Daddy, they squealed and jumped onto him, each latched to his legs as Sansa welcomed her love with a kiss as the puppy ran around nipping at their feet.

"Mi corazon," he sighed. The twins were so excited that daddy did not miss their day. They knew that daddy would come and both looked accusingly at Sansa who giggled at their pouts, that so matched their daddy's patented pout in high school. Each tried to recount what happened at their party, with each talking over the other in both English and Spanish. Finally, Sansa got them all settled down, even the puppy - she was the child and dog whisperer!

"Jon," she looked at him in concern when they were finally in their room, "the girls would understand and need to get used to disappointment."

He shook his head, remembering vividly Sansa's tears when Lady was put down after being run over, when that arse Joffrey beat her. He remembered his mum crying. _No!_

"Jon, look at me. You are the best dad - our girls would be OK, but would not be if you go Incredible Hulk on their boyfriends or girlfriends. You got to chill baby."

She kissed his eyebrows which were lifted, soothing him as he was sputtering something about nuns and convents.

"Jon. No - our girls are not going to be nuns. Remember Mother Mordane - do you want them to be like her?"

They both shuddered remembering her sanctimonious words.

"I just don't want them to be hurt. I just worry."

"They got each other. They know their worth - Anna would kick ass and Lysa would sass. Frankly, I worry for others."

Jon looked at his wife, watching her remove his pants and the way she licked her lips. Maybe she was right - the girls were not as sheltered as Sansa was growing up and were not taught to only please. They knew when to say no... It was so hard to concentrate as Sansa got a hold of him.

"Is the Hulk ready to rumble?"

"Hulk bed!" he hoarsely said as Sansa giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing fills for Jonsa week. 
> 
> In this last one, I was a lot ambitious, seeing if I could tie as many Jonsa week themes together (sky being his flight, snow, storm, direwolf, dragon, song, bedding and children and home/castle). I truly think their relationship is akin to the sea (although there is no mention in the text of this chapter), the ebb and the flow with each taking turns on being each phase of the tide.
> 
> (Alas, there are no letters and no breakfast in this one but I think Sansa will be feasting on him in the end (lol)).
> 
> At the end, the constant in all of my tiny tales is hopefully heart. I hope my tales make you smile.


End file.
